Exhausted. That's the word I'd use to describe the feeling we get when we're hustlin'.
Sometimes it's one of those good exhaustions, the ones that wash over you after a job well done (or lots of tiny jobs well done, as they're leading up to the big thing).
Sometimes, though, you're just worn the cuss out.
And that's cool, too. Unless that's you all of the time.
Then it's like, "Whoops. This sucks."
I'm close to the "Whoops." I've gotta rally, man. Like SO HARD.
I've been doing workouts with a personal trainer. His name is Tyler.
Yeah, I vomit in my mouth a little when I say it, too. And he knows it.
Tyler (*gulp*) is a douche. He's a nice, well-meaning douche, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a 21 year old "hottie" looking for love, but training people to be as cut as he is.
I will NEVER be as cut as he is and I openly dislike him, but I'm still his favourite client.
Why? Why would this dudebro look forward to spending time with this ancient fat crone?
Cos I make talk copious amounts of shit and I make him laugh.
Practicing my shit talk/comedy routine is the ONLY REASON we're still working out together!
And every time I get close to exhaustion (I'm not talkin' "But I'm le tired..." puny stuff. I'm talkin' I can't hear out of my ears, I'm falling over and I'm shaking for exertion, k?), he pushes me.
That little douchebro pushes me beyond the points I've gone before and it works!
"Most people don't go as hard as they can go," he yammered while checking out some girl's 'technique'. "You can always do more."
My sweaty brow furrowed, "What're you sayin'? I don't go hard?!" (You've gotta speak their lingo or ya lose em these days.)
His deep green hazel-flecked eyes back on mine, super seriously, he says, "No. You don't."
To which I proceeded to tell him 500 different ways he could fuck all the way off, peppering in all of the commitments I go hard at.
What do I exactly need to prove to Tyler?! (UGH!) Nothing.
It's all about proving it to myself. And I'm doing a helluva job.
But, apparently, I can go harder...
Well, challenge accepted, arse-bucket! May your goo-goo eyes work on someone in spandex pants on the other side of the room. They just piss me off to levels of RAGEY ENTHUSIASM for FITNESS (and other activities in which I may over-achieve)!!!